The Lift Away
by kidenagain
Summary: The night before Finn ships out to basic. Things happen.


What he means to say is how Finn is a douche bag, and selfish, and so fucking stupid for thinking this is the right thing to do. What Puck wants to do is grab him and shake him until he understands that he doesn't need anything - or anyone – to make him better. Not the army, not Rachel, not nothing. That Finn has never, not once, had anything to prove to anyone. All this shit, all these _weaknesses _don't exist anywhere but in his fucking head.

The night is nice though, it's been really fucking good, and Puck is too tired to fight. They don't have enough time for it anyway. When the sun comes back around Finn's going to be on a bus driving off to Fort Whatever and this is it. It's the last few hours before everything changes for good, forever, and -

Finn crosses his arms over his knees and he looks so fucking sad in the light of the bonfire. There are a thousand things Puck's wanted over the years, and a thousand more after that. He'd wanted to be enough to make his mother happy, wanted his father back, wanted to keep Beth, to stay with Lauren, wanted to love Quinn. And that list grows longer every fucking day – _every day._

He'd wanted California so bad he could close his eyes and taste warm, salt-water breezes.

And now he wants to fix this for Finn. Wants to get him out of the army, wants to bring back Rachel, wants to erase every fucking stupid decision that lead him here, sitting next to Puck with that look on his face.

"Remember," Finn starts, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and massaging for a second before starting again. "Remember when we were kids and we thought we'd be rock stars after we graduated high school."

Puck nods, lighting a cigarette and watching as Santana presses a soft kiss to Brittany's temple on the opposite side of the fire. "I haven't given up on that yet."

"I wish I could still feel that way," Finn says, turning his head away from Puck and towards the lake. "When you're a kid you're just so sure of everything. Like things will work out just because they'll work out and you don't have to worry about how you're gonna get there. Or if you'll be good enough."

The smoke from Puck's cigarette curls skyward and disappears and he says, "That's life, dude. Just when it's suppose to start getting good it kicks the shit out of you."

"I don't know if I want to be a soldier," Finn whispers. Sighing, he holds his head, pulling lightly on his hair in frustration, his face hidden behind his forearms. "But I don't think I wanted to be an actor either. I don't know -."

"I don't know why this had to be something you fucking figured out _now_," Puck snaps. Sagging a little, feeling guilty about the tone of his voice, he softly says, "There was no rush, Finn. You were so fucking worried about not _becoming_anything it's like you forgot you already are something."

"What do you mean?" Finn asks, finally looking at Puck again.

"You should have - we should have gone to California. And you could have taken the rest of your damn life to figure out what you wanted to be when you grow up."

They lapse into silence and Puck thinks about sticking his head in the fire, just burning up, because he might as well. There's always been something about Finn that makes him _honest –_ and about the stupidest shit, too. About the sappy crap that no one ever needs to hear, that no one wants to hear. And the worst part, the absolute fucking worst part, is that the truth always seems to be _about _Finn himself.

"I'm sorry you're not going to California," Finn says eventually, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry _we're_not going to California."

He's trying not to sound bitter. It shouldn't be about him, not right now, not when Finn is a couple of hours to the rest of his life. It's impossible to ignore though, the twisting sickness in his gut. Nothing is going the way he knows in his bones it should have. Yeah, maybe they were never going to be rock stars, but they were supposed to be together – two badass old dudes. That part shouldn't have been negotiable.

But it was. It was with Quinn, and more with Rachel. And Puck hates that he fucked this up so badly. That he let Finn get so far away from him, let Rachel's big dreams crush him so completely. Until he convinced himself he'd never be good enough for anything. No one, especially Finn, could live in a shadow that big and deep.

The giant idiot needs sunlight.

"Maybe it's better this way," Puck says. He stubs his cigarette out in the dirt-sand under his feet and admits, "I wanted L.A. I wanted it really bad. But after you said no and my dad showed back up – it was like the universe was was trying to tell me something or whatever."

Finn rests his head on his forearms, pulling his knees a little closer to his chest. Stares at the fire. Or through it.

"Now I get more time with my girl."

Okay, yeah, they've been good for a while. Friends again, best friends even, and that was honestly something Puck never thought they'd get back. But there are still things they don't talk about. And the biggest thing, the number one thing, is Beth. Finn's never said it, but he doesn't have to, Puck knows anyway. Because he knows Finn the best and if he can only be sure of one thing, just one, it's that Finn would have given anything to be Beth's father.

After he'd struggled through it, finally accepted it, he'd wanted her. Wanted her in the same painful way Puck had. The way Puck still does. It had never really been about stealing Quinn. Right from the moment Finn found out, it had been about robbing Beth away from him.

Finn turns to him, a strange sort of look on his face that Puck can't place. He looks sad again, but happy too, resigned. Staring at Puck, his eyes soft and heavy lidded, he says, "I'm glad, dude." Smiling, a real smile that feels like a punch in the gut – that stupid one where only half is face is into it and he looks like the Finn in Puck's memory, eight years old and lanky, skinned knees. Finn says, "Better with you than without. She's lucky."

If the smile on Finn's face was a punch to his gut, his praise is getting hit by a fucking bus. It knocks the wind out of him, and Puck pushes a hand into his 'hawk, mussing it and trying to ignore the way Finn is still looking at him. But his gaze burns white-hot into Puck's skin. Finn's not waiting for anything. Doesn't expect Puck to speak. He's just looking.

Puck feels like he waited so long for Finn to just look at him.

And now he is. At the end of everything. When they'll be breaking apart from each other, probably forever, because that's just how life is. Time does nothing but tear away the things you want, doesn't do anything but fade the memory of the things and people you never wanted to let go of or forget.

Puck resigned himself a long time ago that Finn has always, and will always, fall into all of those categories. Something he wants. Doesn't want to let go of. Never wants to forget.

"Thanks," he mumbles. "She's a good girl. I wish -."

He shakes his head, throwing the thought away. It doesn't make it untrue though, ignoring it. The wish that Finn could have known her, just a little. Or at least have met her. That Puck, in the deepest, darkest, most hidden part of his heart, had kind of wished for Finn to be a part of her life too. For Finn to be just a little bit in love with something that Puck is so, so proud of.

For Finn to just be a little bit in love.

And if not with him – with anything outside of Rachel Berry.

On the other side of the fire, Puck watches Brittany whisper something in Santana's ear. The smile that breaks out across Santana's face is genuine and unguarded and Puck has known her for years, has seen her smile a thousand times, but never like that. He hates her a little for it. Hates that he can see something in Santana and Brittany that nags at him, makes him feel sick.

Puck was never, never as soul-crushingly mean as Santana. And Finn knows what a heart attack really is, doesn't believe in unicorns as far as Puck knows. But there's still _something. _

Nothing is more recognizable than the possessiveness he can see in Santana's every move. That she thinks Brittany is made of fucking sunshine and ice cream and every good day Santana can remember – and that she will, at all costs – spend as much time as Brittany lets her trying to keep her safe and unchanged. Try to shield her from everything in the world that will someday make her cynical and steal away all that fucking whimsy she wears so well.

Puck knows that feeling. And although Finn's never been as offbeat as Brittany, and he's already pretty cynical, at least when it comes to himself, Puck knows that Finn still believes in things. That people are good and that the universe is fair and that happy endings exist.

Finn is still sometimes so goofy and sweet and -

The army will stamp that out of him. They'll take all the things they think are weak about him, the things that Puck likes the most, and they'll kill it all. Tell him it'll make him better and stronger. But Puck knows the truth – it'll just turn him into another drudge. A robot.

Somewhere behind them, Tina is singing, Artie and Sam laughing. And beyond that is the gentle rustle of the trees and the sound of the lake, and Puck thinks it would be okay if this night lasted forever. If he could just stop time and stay. He looks up at the sky, lighting another cigarette with a sigh. There are a million fucking stars out and he's wished on every one of them. A million wishes and nothing to show for it. But screw it, he thinks, one more can't hurt.

"Do me a favor, will you?"

Finn lowers his legs and crosses them, turning just slightly to face Puck. "Sure, dude."

Licking the dryness from his lips, Puck keeps his eyes on the fire, on Brittany and Santana, and pass them to the thousand stars that let him down. Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he says, "Really try not to let them change you, alright? You're better than those fucking automatons."

"Puck -," Finn starts, his voice sounding tired and -

"Don't," he snaps, finally meeting Finn's eyes. "You don't know you. _I know you. _And you're better than them. You're better than everyone."

"I'm not," Finn argues, shaking his head and looking away again. "I mess up all the time."

"Yeah, you do," Puck agrees, nodding his head as he takes a drag of his cigarette. "Because you aren't fucking Superman, dickhead. You're just a dude." Stubbing the smoke out, Puck thinks fuck it, because Finn is leaving tomorrow and it's not like he's trying to hide anything anymore. Not really. So he presses his hand to Finn's chest, right over his heart, and says, "Trust me. You're better _here_than anyone."

Finn's eyes widen and maybe it's Puck's imagination, but he thinks he can feel his heart beating under his hand. Fast and anxious, thump thump thumping. Puck keeps his hand pressed against Finn's chest and just watches him. The blush that spreads across his cheeks and down to the neckline of his tee. Feels the rise and fall of his breathing, deep and steadying.

"It'll be hard, dude. They are going to tear you apart and rebuild you. Or at least try too." Puck curls his fingers into Finn's shirt, holding on to him tightly. "And it's just – you don't need that. I want you just like this."

"What do you mean?" Finn breathes.

"Take it however you want," Puck says, flexing his fingers and letting his hand drop away from Finn's chest.

Inhaling deeply, Finn opens his mouth to say something just as Tina squeezes into the space between them, plopping down on the grass. Whatever he was going to say might have been silenced with Tina's appearance, but it's still there on his face. And then Tina is followed by Kurt and Blaine, followed by Artie and Sam. When Santana and Brittany stand up, hand in hand, and make their way over to join the group, it's _still there _on Finn's face. And when everyone starts talking, gentle murmurs under the sound of Sam's acoustic guitar, all Puck can hear is what Finn almost said.

"I'll be back," Finn says to no one in particular. "I'm gonna go grab my hoodie."

Climbing to his feet, using Kurt's shoulder for dramatic leverage, Puck watches Finn slip his feet back into his ridiculous flip-flops and start trudging along the path up to where the cars are parked. It's a stupid idea to follow, and Puck knows he shouldn't, but he needs to know what Finn was going to say. And he might not get him alone long enough for the rest of the night to hear it. Next to him, Tina hunches over in laughter, her head falling to Brittany's lap, and over her back Kurt catches Puck's eye. As much as he hates to admit it – really fucking hates to admit it – if anyone over the last three years grew to know Finn even a fraction of how well Puck knows him, it's Kurt.

It's also impossible to not see that Kurt honestly cares about him. That he really does consider Finn his family, blood or not. That, maybe more than anything else, makes Kurt someone Puck understands. Makes him someone Puck knows he can trust. Kurt maybe, probably, sees the same things in Finn that he does.

And from the look in his eyes, Puck is sure Kurt is thinking the same thing. That Finn is breaking – the army and letting go of Rachel. Sure, they all have their own fucking issues. But tonight it's about Finn. He's only got a few hours left until the morning.

Kurt widens his eyes, his jaw tightening as his eyebrows knit together, like _well, what are you waiting for. _With a sigh, Puck stands up, brushing the dirt and sand from his hands and sets off in a jog to catch up.

"Hey," he says, slinging an arm around Finn's shoulders and then pushing him away playfully. "You alright?" But Finn just smiles at him, shrugging a little, digging around in his pockets for the keys to Kurt's SUV. Puck leans against his truck, watching as Finn grabs his hoodie and pulls it on over his head and Puck knows, without a doubt, that he is so, so very fucked as Finn leans back against Kurt's car.

Under the one floodlight in the parking lot Puck takes a moment to just look at him. His hair is ruffled, wild with no product. His skin sunkissed from the long summer, all his freckles dark enough to count even with the distance between them. Shimmying around inside his hoodie, Finn looks warm and comfortable and -

"Talk to me, man," Puck says. He crushes the receipt in his pocket, from the booze he'd bought earlier, and chucks it at Finn's head. "Come on, asshole." Because they might never be the same again. Because this might be the last time Puck can look at him and know something is wrong. Because time is a fucking bitch.

The receipt bounces off of Finn's face and lands on the ground between them and Puck almost doesn't hear what Finn says over the sound of his own laughter.

"Dude..."

"I don't, Puck," Finn says, staring hard at the pavement. "I don't want to go. But I don't know how to get out of it, I think it's too late." And like the first confession was all he needs to start, the rest come tumbling after. "I don't know what I want anymore. I guess I never did. I don't want to go into the army but I don't want to go to New York either." His voice is suddenly wet with tears and he says, "I don't even know if I want to be with Rachel anymore."

He sniffles, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, and all Puck can think is how the fuck is Finn supposed to be a soldier. Not that he isn't strong, or capable, not that he wouldn't be good for it. But it wouldn't be good for _him.  
__  
_Puck starts to say something but falls silent as Finn speaks again. "I wanted to marry her. I really did, dude. I thought I'd never get another girl to love me like that. She was the first – she was the only person who - and she's so fucking talented and she's so nice and pretty and I thought if someone who has such an amazing future ahead of her could love _me. _If she could choose me out of everyone in the world -. I'd never find anything worth more than that."

"But," Puck supplies for him, knowing it's coming.

"She didn't want to marry me. I know she didn't. I could _feel it._ And I kept trying to give her outs and she never took them. She was going to marry me because she's too fucking nice to say _no."_

Closing the distance between them, Puck leans against the SUV next to him, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"So I know it's better. I know it's better this way. She's – she's going to find someone she has shit in common with and they'll fall in love and talk about Broadway and those stupid fucking movies with subtitles she likes and – and I'm going to be in the army." Finn sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Why did I join the army."

"Because you're an asshole," Puck says, nudging him with his shoulder. "And you thought you had something to prove or some shit."

"What am I going to do, Puck?" Finn asks, his voice cracking.

"Go AWOL?"

Finn shakes his head. "I can't do that. Can't they like, court martial me or something?"

Puck shrugs. "Tell them you're gay," he says carefully.

Sighing, Finn's shoulders sag a little. "I would. But that doesn't even matter anymore, right? I mean, didn't they get rid of that?"

"Get Kurt to go with you in the morning and start tonguing him right in front of everyone," Puck says, smirking. "A hundred bucks they don't give a shit about any repeal. They'll never let your ass on the bus."

"Ew, dude," Finn laughs. "I can't make out with Kurt."

They both laugh at that, making faces at each other, until Puck feels like he's going to go crazy. All night it's been Finn, Finn, Finn in his head, and he can barely stand it anymore. In another hour or so dawn will break and a few hours after that Finn will be on a bus getting further and further away from the places Puck had wanted them to be. And it's that look that had been on Finn's face earlier that drives him forward, makes him feel more confident than he should be about what he's about to do.

"You can make out with me."

Finn exhales unevenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Pushing a hand through his hair, he makes a small sound, leaning ever so slightly against Puck's shoulder. It's really all the confirmation he needs that Finn knows what all of that shit down by the fire was about. That Finn knows, that Finn maybe knew from the very fucking moment Puck asked him to move in, to come with him to California.

"Puck -," he sighs. Then gives up.

"I'm joking, dude. Relax," Puck says. But Finn is still leaning against him, a little heavier. The weight is welcomed, familiar and – just for a second – makes him feel the sun won't rise. "It was a stupid joke."

"No it wasn't," Finn whispers.

"No," Puck admits. Because he has to. "It wasn't."

"I don't really understand why though."

"Will you stop already? Your low self-esteem is getting really fucking -."

"No, no," Finn says, turning towards him and ducking his head. "I get _that_. I just mean, I didn't know you were -."

"Yeah," Puck says uncomfortably. The truth is, he doesn't know if he's gay either. Since he was thirteen, maybe younger, he's wanted to kiss a lot of girls. Every girl he could manage. But he's only ever wanted to kiss one boy.

"You know what the messed up part is?" Puck makes a noise for Finn to continue, patting around his pockets trying to find his lighter. "I don't know if it's because I'm leaving tomorrow or because we've been getting along so awesome for a while now or – or because it just sucked so bad that year we weren't talking. But I sort of want to."

Fuck the lighter, Puck thinks, dropping the search and looking up at Finn. Standing there in the parking lot saying that yeah, he wants to kiss too. And there is just no real way for Puck's brain to process that. All six foot a thousand feet of him looks small somehow, and without thinking – without letting himself think – Puck reaches out and fists Finn's sweatshirt, tugging him closer.

When they were kids they used to hug all the time. After a good little league game or when Finn finally beat Mario 64 or just because summer camp was long, and stupid, and Finn was glad to be home. Growing up, Puck knows, sometimes means growing _out_of things. But this still feels just as good, just as right, so when Finn hunches a little to wrap his arms around Puck's chest, he doesn't mind. Just brings his arms up, wrapping one around the back of Finn's neck and pulling him closer, hugging him tight.

He's going to kiss him. Has to.

So, with Finn's face buried against his neck, Puck noses through his hair as one of his hands move to the side of Finn's face, stroking across his cheek and encouraging him to pull away. "Come on," Puck says gently. "I'm gonna kiss you."

"Okay," Finn murmurs against Puck's skin. Leaning back just enough, Puck watches him lick his lips before craning forward to press their mouths together. The moan that falls out of Finn is loud in the silence and Puck grips him tightly, drawing him closer. Moving his tongue over the seam of Finn's mouth, it's Puck that groans as Finn opens for him, letting him in to taste. To feel the hot, wet slide of Finn's tongue against his own. And then Finn is biting on his bottom lip, tugging on it gently with his teeth, before moving back in to kiss again. And it's perfect, and not enough, and when Finn shifts against him, pressing Puck fully against Kurt's car, the world behind his eyes explodes like fireworks.

Because Finn is hard, Puck can feel it through the layers between them. He wonders how long Finn wanted this, how long they could have been kissing like this – so good and so thoroughly and so fucking hot that Puck thinks he might die, right there. Finn is getting more and more into it as the kiss continues, moaning and clutching at Puck's t-shirt, like something is unlocking inside him. And Puck pushes himself hard off the car, grabbing at Finn and turning them around, crowding Finn against the door.

Finn tastes like beer and sour cream and onion potato chips. Underneath that, just _Finn. _

"Finn," Puck gasps, tearing away from him. "Dude -."

Puck watches, breathing heavy, as Finn opens the car door, reaches out to Puck again and tugs him closer. Tugs him down into the backseat. Pulling the door closed behind him, Puck then surges back to Finn, their mouths meeting open – eager, sloppy kisses. Watching Finn fall down across the backseat, Puck thinks maybe he'll send Kurt a thank you card for being such a spoiled rich kid. Not many vehicles could let Finn _sprawl_, but he is now, looking up at Puck and waiting.

And Puck is so fucking tired of waiting.

Scooting closer, Puck hovers over him, pressing chaste kisses to his jaw and neck as his hands make quick work of Finn's shorts. And then he's pulling away, manhandling Finn out of his hoodie, taking the shirt off with it, and God. Finn's hands slide up the back of Puck's shirt, big paws warm and confident and then Puck's shirt is gone too.

Kissing Finn's chest, Puck tugs at his shorts, getting them down around Finn's thighs and letting him kick them away. And holy shit. Finn is naked underneath him, sweating in the hot, stale air inside the SUV. He moves his hand up the outside of Finn's thigh, hoisting it up around his waist as he kisses him, and Finn's making the most amazing fucking noises. Small, breathy moans and Puck wants _everything. _Wants to touch him, taste him, wants to feel the drag of Finn's body against his. Wants to be inside, to have Finn inside him, to make Finn fall apart, to show him in the best way Puck knows how what everything he's said tonight really means.

Finn's hands fumble with Puck's shorts, pushing at them desperately, and Puck laughs, muffled again Finn's mouth. "Relax," he says, threading a hand through Finn's sweaty hair. "I'll do it."

Shimmying out of the rest of his clothes, he lays back down over Finn, pressing them together completely. It's embarrassing, maybe, but he's shaking – and it's okay – because Finn is shaking too. And it's stupid, kind of pathetic, and completely unsurprising.

Finn breathes, "Puck," one of his hands pressing against the small of his back and the other tangled in his mohawk. Rocking his hips against him, Finn spreads his legs wider, letting Puck settle completely. Holding on to him tightly, Puck thrusts, their cocks trapped between them. The friction is amazing and not enough, so Puck lifts his hips and reaches between them to wrap his hand around Finn's dick, stroking him slowly, thumb swiping over the head and smearing the wetness there.

Finn throws his head back, moaning loud and long, arching against him.

"Goddamn it, Finn," Puck gasps, tightening his grip and jerking him a little faster. "You're so fucking hot." Pressing a kiss to Finn's shoulder, he says, "Tell me what you want, dude. Tell me how to make you feel good."

"I want you," Finn says immediately, not an ounce of hesitation. "God, Puck, I don't know. I kind of always wanted you." Resting his forehead against Finn's chest, Puck just breathes, trying to steady himself as Finn pets down the back of his head.

After a minute Puck pulls back, repositioning them so Finn's legs are spread around his hips. It's uncomfortable but neither of them care. Taking a little bit of a risk, Puck licks two of his fingers wetly as Finn watches – and waits a beat for Finn to tell him no, to push him away. When it doesn't come, Puck brings one of his legs up to kiss the inside of his calf as he circles around his hole with both his fingers.

Finn keens a little, trying to spread his legs wider, and it's an invitation if Puck's ever seen one. So carefully, slowly, he pushes one finger inside him and God. Finn is hot and tight, and Puck wraps his free hand around the back of Finn's neck, pulling him up as he leans down to kiss him again. Still kissing, he keeps his hand moving, working another finger inside and eating up all the moans from Finn's mouth.

"What do you think the chances are Kurt has lube in the car?"

"Oh God," Finn laughs. "I fucking hope not. I don't want to think about that."

Puck grins, drawing another moan out of Finn as he teases with a third finger. "I bet you ten bucks it's in the center console." Finn shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Puck and clinging to him as Puck reaches over, digging around for what he's praying is there. Because Finn's face is buried in his shoulder and everything is just -

It's perfect.

"Told you," he says, triumphant.

"Ugh," Finn groans, but he's laughing too.

And this is how Puck knew it would be. No awkwardness, not with them, not ever. It's just desperate and easy and comfortable and _right. _How they are supposed to be.

Puck pops open the tube and squeezes it where he needs it, slicking Finn's skin and his own fingers, then pushes them back in. Twisting, searching, until he finds that spot inside Finn that makes him bite down on Puck's shoulder, shaking.

"Here," Finn says, breathless, reaching down to his shorts and fishing out his wallet. "I know you don't usually but -."

"Shut up, Finn." Puck kisses him chastely on the mouth and takes the condom from Finn, ripping the package open with his teeth. "I don't care," he says, watching amazed as Finn helps him get it on. Puck presses more kisses to every part of Finn he can reach, withdrawing his fingers, he says, "I'd do anything for you."

And Finn – fucking Finn, who Puck never thought he'd have like this, never thought Finn would ever want him this way – presses his hands to the sides of Puck's face, holding him still. Somehow shy, in spite of everything, Finn kisses him, sweet and almost tenderly. Lifting Finn's legs up, folding him in on himself a little, Puck lines himself up against his hole, pressing in just a little.

"I'm serious, Finn," he says, his voice shaking. "I'd do anything."

Finn nods, swallowing thickly, then kisses Puck's chin. "I know this is all fast, dude," Finn says, breathing heavy, "and I know it maybe doesn't make any sense, because -." He doesn't say her name, and Puck's glad for it. She can't have this moment, not this one, she's had all of Finn for so long – and this is Puck's. "But, you know I love you, right?"

Moaning, Puck hooks his arms under Finn's arms, holding him tightly. "Say it again."

"I love you, Puck," Finn says and fuck everything, because he means it. And Puck knows – of course he knows – because it's always been there. It's always been just beneath the surface of everything, always, no matter how many girls between. It was only ever the two of them.

"Just relax, okay?" Finn nods, pressing his mouth against Puck's sweat-covered shoulder.

And as Puck pushes into him – impossibly tight and hot and amazing – Finn let's out a sobbing noise against his skin, clinging to him. Puck has no doubt it hurts, they rushed so much, but Finn is rocking back against him, taking him in, wants it just as much as Puck does.

"That's it, baby," Puck reassures, kissing the side of Finn's head. "You feel so good Finn. You're -."

Finn nods, mouthing Puck's jaw he says, "Just start moving. Come on, Puck. I'm -."

Shifting closer, holding him where he needs him to be, Puck does just that. Slides almost all the way out before pushing back in, each sound, each moan from Finn driving him forward. Smoothing a hand up the back of Finn's thigh, Puck holds him at the knee as he starts moving faster, sure Finn can take it, fucking into him deep and steady. Underneath him, Finn is a mess of sounds and grabbing hands, holding on to Puck as he tries to rock back against him, his eyelashes fluttering.

They can't last – it's just too much. Puck can feel the tension in Finn's legs, the shaking, and he covers Finn's body with his own, holding up the thigh not trapped between Puck and the seat. Wrapping his free hand around Finn's cock, Puck strokes him in time with his thrusts, murmuring encouragements into Finn's shoulder. How hot he is, how good he feels, how long Puck's been wanting him. And Finn moans are growing louder and louder, more broken, and -

"Oh, God. Oh, God, _Puck_," his voice is hoarse, cracking, and he bucks against him, trying to fuck himself on Puck's cock faster. "I'm so close. Fuck, dude, you feel so -."

Puck wraps his arms around him as Finn hooks his legs around Puck's waist, picking up the pace. "Come on," he says, kissing his neck and behind his ear. "Come for me, Finn."

And he does, his entire body trembling, arching, panting hotly against Puck's already fevered skin. He comes against Puck's stomach, all over his own chest,clenching his ass around Puck's cock as he rides it out. And Puck moans, holds him tightly as he follows, thrusting deep as he empties into the condom.

Pulling out of Finn carefully, Puck pulls the condom off, tying it and tossing it. Collapsing on top of him, Puck hums a little as Finn's arms fall across his back. It all feels too good, to good to lose, to good to say goodbye to. And just once, Puck thinks, just this one time, why can't he keep something he wants. Why can't he just hold on to this one thing.

"You know what's messed up?" Finn says softly, after he catches his breath. His fingers are in Puck's hair, massaging his scalp idly, and he says, "I think I finally know where I want to be."

Puck closes his eyes, glad Finn can't see his face where it's pillowed on his shoulder. He knew reality was going to catch up, knew he couldn't fight off dawn forever, but now it's worse. That didn't seem possible. Now Finn wants to stay – not just because he doesn't want to go – but because he's found something to stay for. Puck. He wants to stay with Puck.

Not Rachel. Not even Quinn.

Finally, Puck thinks, it's my turn. And it's never going to happen.

"I'll be here," Puck says, still refusing to look at him. He slides a hand up Finn's side, just touching him, and says, "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here when you get back."

"And we can get one bed," Finn says, his voice tight. "Right?"

"Yeah," Puck promises, kissing his shoulder. "Confirmed."

There's got to be something. Anything. A loophole. _Something. _Maybe they can go to Canada or Mexico. Maybe they can get a lawyer, find someone, anyone to help, to get them out of this fucked up situation, someone -

Puck sits up suddenly, his stomach twisting, pretty sure he might puke. So stupid, he thinks, he's so fucking stupid. The answer was staring him in the face the entire fucking time. Right there, clear as day.

"Dude," he says, grinning wildly. He pulls at Finn until he sits up and then kisses him wildly, hands scrabbling at his shoulders to get him as close as possible. "Finn, you fucking asshole," he mumbles into his mouth. "We're so fucking stupid."

"What's going on?" Finn says, watching with wide eyes as Puck throws open the door, stumbling out into the parking lot. "You're naked, douche bag," he laughs.

"What?" Puck says, then, "oh, shit. Give me my shorts. Come on, dude. We gotta go get Kurt. Get dressed." Finn tosses him his shorts and Puck pulls them on, nearly toppling over in excitement.

Buttoning his own shorts, Finn says, still chuckling, "Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Burt," Puck says, pulling Finn out of the truck. "Burt, Finn. We have to ask him for help. He's a fucking congressman, dude. You don't think he can pull some strings? Do _something?_"

Finn bites his lip, pulling his shirt back over his head. "Dude, I don't know... I don't know if Burt can do that."

Puck shakes his head. He's wrong, Finn's _wrong. _Politicians do shady shit like that all the fucking time. And he'll do it for Finn, Puck knows it. He'll do it. He has to. Because -

"I'm not losing you," Puck says, squeezing hard on the nape of Finn's neck and touching their foreheads together. "I just got you. And for some fucking reason you want me back, and I won't lose you."

"Okay," Finn says, nodding, brushing his lips against Puck's. "Okay, it's worth a shot. We'll try."

Grabbing his t-shirt, Puck pulls it on over his head as he jogs back down to the bonfire, Finn following behind him. All their friends are still sitting there, laughing and talking, some singing along to Sam's guitar and Puck doesn't care how crazy he looks, sliding to his knees in front of Kurt.

"Oh my God!" Kurt yelps, swatting at Puck with both his hands. "What's _wrong with you?_Are you on drugs? You scared me half to death!"

Sam stops playing. Everyone stops talking. And Puck doesn't care. Let them all hear, and watch, laugh if they want. He looks over his shoulder at Finn, standing unsure a few feet away, then back at Kurt.

"Your dad."

"Excuse me?" Kurt says, raising an eyebrow. "What about him?"

"Kurt," Puck says, licking his lips and tightening his jaw. And here he thought Kurt was the fucking smart one. "Your _father. _Congressman Hummel."

Kurt looks at him for a long moment, his face caught somewhere between confusion and annoyance, and then Puck sees it. Realization. Maybe something close to hope.

"I could kiss you right now," Kurt says, taking a deep breath and then sighing deeply. Blaine makes a small noise of protest and Kurt waves his hand, rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't," Santana says, snickering. "He was just getting down and dirty with your brother."

"What?" Finn yelps, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. "No we weren't!"

"So it's just something you guys do, then?" she says, grinning sweetly at him. "Wear each other's shirts inside out?"

Puck looks down at his shirt and yeah, okay, it's Finn's. And it _is _inside out. But nothing as ever been so beside the point ever in history. At least for the moment.

"Kurt," he says, snapping his fingers. "Freak out about it later. Call your fucking dad."

"Yeah," Kurt says, sounding dazed. He gropes around at his pocket for a minute until Blaine lends a hand, getting Kurt's phone for him and then placing it in his hand. "Jesus, you two slept together?"

"Call. Your fucking. Father," Puck says, lifting Kurt's hand, and the phone, close to his face. "Please. You can have a breakdown later, when we're _not_ _taking Finn to the bus station."_

"Right," Kurt nods. "Okay, yes. Priorities. Of course. But," he looks up at Finn, bringing the phone to his ear as it starts to ring, "I want to talk about _faggy lamps _later."

Finn rolls his eyes.

As Kurt talks, Puck climbs to his feet and back to Finn. His voice low, he says, "You're sure? I mean, it doesn't change anything. But you're sure, right?"

"About you?" Finn asks.

Puck nods, placing a hand on Finn's hip and squeezing. "This is a lot for one night, dude. If you're gonna change your mind, if in a few weeks you decide you wanna be with -."

"I want this," Finn interjects. "I want you, Puck."

And right in front of everyone – their friends and family, God, the universe, the fucking stars that Puck had wished on so hard, that he was sure weren't listening – Finn kisses him. "Even if this doesn't work," he says, "you'll -."

"Be here, yeah," Puck says. "I'm not going anywhere. But it's going to work. I promise."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Kurt says, holding the phone out to Finn. "But dad would like a word?"

Finn nods, taking the phone from Kurt and walking away to talk. Puck watches him, his stomach turning, and says to Kurt, "So?"

"He said he'll make some phone calls and see what he can do. But he made one thing absolutely clear: If Finn really doesn't want to go, he's going to go everything in his power to stop it."

"Okay," Puck says, grinning. "Now I want to kiss you. Or your dad, I guess."

"Slut," Santana calls.

"Shut the fuck up, Santana," Puck says without venom, grinning at her. His eyes fall back on Finn, like always, nodding into the phone as if Burt could see, talking animately. Finn ends the call but doesn't move, just standing there staring at it in his hand, and it's too fucking dark because Puck can't make out his facial expression. And he needs to know. Needs to hear it from Finn, too, not just Kurt.

"Dude?"

Finn hands the cell back to Kurt, a small, relieved smile on his face. He looks exhausted. To Puck, he says, "Can you drive me home? I want to sleep for the next ten hours."

Somewhere beyond Finn the sun is starting to rise. Puck says, "_Can _you sleep for the next ten hours?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I mean, it's not going to be that easy. But I'm not going anywhere today."

Before Puck can say anything, Kurt launches himself at Finn, his phone dropping to the ground as he hugs him tightly. "Okay, okay," Finn says, laughing, hugging him back. "I'll see you at home, dude." Then, as Kurt lets him go, "Thank you. Seriously, man. You – and Burt – just -."

"Go home," Kurt says, wiping a hand across his eyes. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah you will," Finn grins. And then holds out his hand.

Puck looks down at it for a second before taking it, holding on to Finn tightly. Pulling him, impatiently, back up to the parking lot as Finn calls out his goodnights, Puck can't help but feel like it's all just too good. Too easy. That he just doesn't get handed shit like this without there being a fallout.

One is coming, he's sure of it. It always does. Whether it's Rachel or the army or whatever the fuck. But, watching as Finn climbs into the passenger side of Puck's truck, it's not coming today. And today, right now, this is his. Finally.

He starts the truck and turns down the radio, just sitting for a second. Trying to get a hold of his thoughts, of everything the last few hours brought. How everything – absolutely everything – has changed.

And then says the only thing left to say, "I love you, too."

* * *

_This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization  
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away  
Your love will be safe with me_

_- re: stacks, bon iver_


End file.
